Chapter Text
CatNap gripped the wooden porch railing, staring between the bars at the blue minivan parked in the gravel driveway. The sounds of the Sweet Home Orphanage behind him were distant, overshadowed by the deafening ringing in his ears. DogDay’s tail wagged with excitement as he helped his new parents load his bags into the back of the minivan. CatNap wished he could feel happy for him, but there was only a deep, gnawing hole in his stomach.
DogDay glanced back at the orphanage he would no longer call home and grinned when he saw CatNap standing on the porch. He dashed over, gripping the railing supports and smiling up at CatNap. “We’ll keep in touch,” DogDay promised.
CatNap couldn’t share DogDay’s excitement. He simply nodded and brushed the tip of his tail against DogDay’s cheek. DogDay leaned into it, smiling slightly, but he quickly left when his new parents called him to the minivan. DogDay waved again before getting into the backseat.
CatNap stood on the porch, watching the minivan pull away. He’d memorized the license plate, FGB-246, in hopes he might see the car again later down the road.
He never did.
CatNap had intentionally positioned his bed so that sunrays shone through his window directly on his face in the evening. That way, if his alarm didn’t work, the sun would blind him into alertness. He blinked as the yellow sun bombarded his pupils and sat up to get his face out of the sun’s rays. Rubbing stiffness from his face, he shook his head aggressively like that would somehow shake away the dark memories looming over his thoughts. He tried not to think about the day DogDay left him behind at the Sweet Home Orphanage, departing for better things. However, it was the start of a downward spiral that CatNap still felt like he hadn’t come out of fifteen years later.
His alarm began to ring on his nightstand, and he yanked his cell off the charger carelessly to shut it up before it got too loud and irritated his neighbors. Upon shutting off the alarm, an email notification from hours earlier popped up, and he frowned at the subject.
Rent Increase Notice.
That was never a good sign.
CatNap could feel anxiety building up in his stomach like a furball. He rubbed his face again, less to wipe away his sleep and more as a sign of distress. It was too early for this. Slamming his phone into his pillow, he got up to prepare for work. He left his phone in his room as he prepped and ate his breakfast, giving himself space to let his heart rate slow back down and enjoy his toast. Only when he stepped into the bathroom to brush his teeth and fur did he pick his phone back up and open the offending email.
Dear CatNap,
Due to recent inspections, we have raised the rent for your TWO-BEDROOM TWO-BATH apartment from $1,550 to $2,200 a month. As per your lease, this will continue to include utilities. Remember that if you take on a roommate, they must sign a lease at the front office.
Thank you.
CatNap slowed his toothbrush, frowning. $2,2000 was almost two-thirds of his paycheck. He couldn’t afford that alone, even if he cut down on his more frivolous spending habits. Holding his toothbrush between his teeth, he scratched the back of his head, frowning. The last line stared at him like a taunting bully. If you take on a roommate … He had the room. At that moment, he used the spare bedroom as extra storage, with an old rickety wireframe bed for the rare occasions he had guests over. He sighed, spat his toothpaste out, and stood in the doorway of the unused bedroom with his hands on his hips. He had about half an hour before he had to head to work, so he might as well clean out the area and take pictures. He moved a couple of boxes of clothes into his bedroom, shoving them under his bed. He stacked the emergency cases of water bottles from the closet in the bottom of the pantry instead. Glancing under the bed to guarantee he’d grabbed everything, he paused and pulled out one last, ratty-looking cardboard box. The contents squeezed his heart, and his upper lip curled into a grimace.
A faded picture inside a cracked picture frame showed him standing beside his friends from the Sweet Home Orphanage. DogDay's arm was wrapped around CatNap’s shoulders, waving to the camera. PickyPiggy stood on his other side, holding half a cake on a plate. Bubba Bubbaphant, CraftyCorn, and Bobby Bearhug sat on the picnic bench behind them. KickinChicken and Hoppy Hopscotch were stood on the table, an activity CatNap vividly remembered Miss Delight telling them not to do. CatNap couldn’t remember why the picture was taken, but he scowled at it and shoved it back into the box, face down. There was some other paraphernalia from his childhood- an old blanket and a stuffed animal dog that he refused to give up after DogDay’s departure, but he hated looking at it now. It reminded him of times he tried to forget.
He stood up sharply, clutching the box and marching out into the hallway. He hesitated, staring at the white plastic garbage can in the kitchen. Every muscle screamed for him to throw it out because all it did was hurt when he saw it, but a small part of his heart held onto hope. Sure, it had been fifteen years since DogDay, the last of their small friend group, had left CatNap alone at the orphanage. Still, maybe the sun would finally shine down on CatNap one of these days and bring them back to him.
He turned to his room and set the box on the top shelf of his closet behind an old laptop. God , he was helpless.
After vacuuming the room and taking show pictures, CatNap put on his uniform jacket and hurried out the door. It was a ten-minute bus ride to the manufacturing facility, where he worked as an overnight guard six nights a week. He’d been there for years now and knew that he would have plenty of time to post an advertisement for a roommate while he was there. Putting on his headphones, he spent the bus ride silently, staring out the window and watching the world pass him by.
Employees were heading out of the parking lot as he ducked in through the back entrance and beelined for the security room. Inside, the daytime guard was packing his stuff under Huggy Wuggy’s supervision. The taller toy turned to look at CatNap as he stepped inside and waved.
“Evening,” CatNap greeted as he set his messenger bag with his laptop and phone on the control desk. “Everything chill?”
Huggy came over to stand beside CatNap, staring down at the screen of security cameras positioned strategically around the factory. There were a few straggling employees known for staying after hours, and the nighttime cleaners were starting to move out with their mop buckets and cleaning containers. They’d be gone by midnight, leaving CatNap alone for the final early morning hours. Huggy shifted and set an arm on his shoulder.
CatNap waved him off. “I can hold down the fort. You go do your rounds.”
Huggy nodded and followed the daytime guard out of the room, shutting the door behind him. The room was silent, save for the AC running quietly, providing CatNap some white noise. He sat down and opened up his laptop, airdropped the pictures from his phone to himself, and began to put together an advert for the spare room in his apartment. He outlined that they’d need to provide half the rent- $1,100 each month- and that he was a nightshift employee, so they would likely not be on opposite schedules. Then, he added his email at the end, posted it, and slammed his laptop shut.
CatNap yelped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Huggy standing over him. He sighed, smoothing the fur on his tail down. “Oh, that?” He chuckled, glancing at his computer like it was a ticking bomb. “They increased my rent, so… I’ll probably have to get a roommate.”
To CatNap’s surprise, Huggy let out a disdainful grunt and turned away to grab his bag off the table.
“Didn’t realize you had so much baggage about roommates,” CatNap jabbed playfully.
Huggy sneered at him, then paused in the doorway and waved.
“Yeah, man. Have a good night.”
CatNap watched Huggy retreat to his car through the security cameras and sat back in his office chair to watch the night cleaners scurry about like he was watching ants move in and out of an ant hill.
He was so lost in his thoughts and the quiet din of the security room that CatNap nearly jumped out of his fur when his phone on the table buzzed. He snatched it up and scowled at the message, feeling his heart rate increase when he saw the subject.
Roommate Offer!!
Who the hell puts exclamation points on the end of an email subject? He swiped to open the email and wrinkled his nose slightly. Everything about the email was offputting. It came from someone named “sunny_dayzed” and was filled with exclamation points. CatNap swore he could feel the person shouting at him excitedly through his silent phone screen. Still, the email said they’d be able to pay the $1,100 a month and leaped at the opportunity to have their own bathroom, which CatNap supposed was a significant selling point. They swapped emails for a few hours, hammering out details (the other person was a male; yes, they were okay with being quiet during the day and only having guests at night; no, they didn’t have any dietary restrictions, things like that). CatNap got up briefly to do his low-effort walk around the building at midnight, then returned to settle on a date and time for the person to come by and sign the lease at the office. Usually, he would’ve preferred to get a chance to talk to the person face-to-face, but they were coming from out of town, getting transferred for work to a local daycare from a sister location, and needed somewhere quick. CatNap didn’t mind. Considering their opposing schedules, it was unlikely they’d run into each other a lot. CatNap didn’t spend much time out of his room anyway, so it was no big deal at the end of the day.
Huggy, ever punctual and having unofficially sold his soul to the factory, came right at 6 A.M. to relieve CatNap of his shift. CatNap, hearing Huggy down the hall, flicked his ear before turning his chair to watch his boss enter the room. Huggy set his bag down on the table and glanced at CatNap curiously.
“Already had an offer.” CatNap got to his feet, stretching his arms above his head as it was the first chance he’d taken to move since his walkaround at midnight. “Meeting them this afternoon.”
Huggy nodded in acknowledgment and set an arm on CatNap’s shoulder. The feline raised a brow at him. “I’m sure I can handle it.” He then patted Huggy’s hand. “I appreciate the concern, though.”
CatNap’s relationship with his boss was atypical, to say the least. They’d known each other for nearly seven years, and Huggy felt much more like an older brother than a supervisor. Still, Huggy had formalities to maintain, and he stepped back when the day shift guard came into the room for his shift. CatNap nodded to them silently, going quiet when it wasn’t just him and someone he was comfortable with, and slipped his laptop into his bag. He waved to Huggy before taking his leave.
When he returned to his apartment, he took an hour to clean it properly. There wasn’t much clutter, as he rarely used the shared space, but it had been months since the last time he seriously attended to the kitchen, which he did use, although not as much as he should have. He’d never eaten much and, as such, didn’t cook often enough to justify cleaning it every time. He scrubbed sticky spots off the counters, disinfected the kitchen sink, ran the dishes, and cleaned the fridge shelves. There was a sad lack of food inside, but instead of frying up any of the vegetables he had, he settled for a bowl of cereal as his first and last meal of the day and went to sit on his bed as he ate.
CatNap tried to be comfortable with the situation. He really did. He found, though, that the longer he dwelled on the fact that soon, he’d be living with another person, the more apprehensive he got. He reasoned that there was no way out of this—he couldn’t afford $2,200 in rent, even if he took on more work at his second job, and Huggy had no open hours for him at the factory. He bounced his leg on the bed, mushing his cereal into the milk. He no longer felt hungry, just sick to his stomach with anxiety. He washed his bowl out, then paced around his apartment, shaking his hands to try to burn off nervous energy. He had to sleep soon. Even if the anxiety was only now starting to get to him, he was tired and had to get up at three that afternoon instead of in the evening to meet his new roommate. He had no choice but to lay in bed in the dark and hope things would go smoothly.
CatNap was startled into awakeness when his alarm went off at three in the afternoon. He lay in bed for a bit, rubbing his eyes before shutting it off. The person would be there at 3:30, and he wanted to look presentable.
CatNap hadn’t necessarily made himself approachable over the years. Nearly every inch of his body was covered in tattoos, a habit he picked up to unlearn other coping mechanisms. Some were easy to cover, like moon phases tattooed down his spine and the massive sun emblazoned across his chest, but many others were harder. He had spiderwebs on one arm, and a flaming skull on the other, topped with a waterlily on his shoulder. He had a star on his thigh, and a few patterns around his ankles. He didn’t exactly want to be secretive towards his new roommate, but he thought it was better to be conservative about his tattoos than open the door coated in ink. He stood in the mirror as he pulled on a striped long-sleeve undershirt, pausing when the neckline caught on the piercings in his ears. After a moment of consideration, he took out most of them, leaving the large moon pendants he had on the main lobe. He had a stud on his tongue, too, but there was no way to get rid of that. He pulled on a black band shirt over the tighter undershirt and smoothed out the wrinkles. Usually, he wore form-fitting pants, like leggings or skinny jeans, but he felt it would be wiser to wear a pair of black cargo pants. He snorted at his appearance. Despite covering up the permanent, alternative-style body modifications, he still somehow oozed punkish emo. Hopefully, they didn’t mind.
CatNap leaned his hands against the sink, staring at himself in the mirror for a long time. Was he ready for this? He didn’t know. Living with someone would open up a new period in his life, but he didn’t know if he was ready for that change.
He didn’t have a chance to second-guess himself, though. He stood upright when there was a knock at the door, filling his body with excited dread. This was it. Whoever was on the other side of the door would be signing a year-long lease with the front desk that evening, dooming them to be roommates for at least 12 months—52 weeks—365 days.
CatNap let out a heavy breath, trying to soothe his pounding heart, and closed the door to his bathroom before unlocking and opening the door.
All of his blood ran cold. Standing before him, with two suitcases and a backpack, was his childhood friend, DogDay. CatNap felt like he was falling into a hole, back to the day DogDay left him standing on the porch of the Sweet Home Orphanage. His heart was beating so fast it felt like it had stopped. How could this have happened? How did he end up like this?
CatNap’s fear was not mirrored in DogDay’s face. In fact, he looked ecstatic, grinning brightly. “ CatNap! ” He exclaimed, letting go of his suitcases to wrap his arms around CatNap in a tight hug. DogDay was considerably shorter than CatNap, so his head only came to CatNap’s chest. Even so, CatNap had so much trouble eating that he was light enough that DogDay could pick him up in a full-body hug. The touch made CatNap’s skin burn like he was covered in fire. DogDay set CatNap back down and stepped back, still grinning toothily. “Wow! It’s been so long!”
“Fifteen years,” CatNap said in a stiff voice.
If DogDay noticed how tense CatNap was, he didn’t say anything. His tail wagged rapidly behind him. “This is amazing! Who would’ve thought this would ever happen? Oh my gosh, we can finally catch up! It’s been years.” CatNap stepped aside as DogDay let himself into his- their - apartment. “This is nice! And so clean! I haven’t ever lived in an apartment. This is so exciting!”
CatNap felt like he was going to faint. Or kill someone. Or both-- blackout and go into a blind rage. He hadn’t felt emotions this heightened in years. He had no reason to. He only ever surrounded himself with people he felt comfortable with, and DogDay was the exact opposite of that.
“...Nap? Hello?” DogDay waved his paw in front of CatNap’s face, jerking him out of his spiraling thoughts. “Mind showing me to my room?”
“... yeah.” CatNap shut the front door and walked over to DogDay’s room. It was barren, save for the wire bedframe in the corner.
“Oh, perfect! This is wonderful. Thank you, roomie .” DogDay elbowed CatNap playfully and laughed.
CatNap forced a grin, although he knew it probably looked more like a grimace. Again, DogDay took no notice of his discomfort. He pulled his bags into the room and opened the window, scaring Catnap away from the afternoon sun. He retreated to his room, where he closed and locked the door.
CatNap just wanted to die .
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